


Unsent Message

by elletromil



Series: Texting with a dead man [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drunk Texting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletromil/pseuds/elletromil
Summary: One night while he's drunk, Eggsy is deleting some old contacts in his phone when he gets to his and Harry's last conversation and the last message he's written, still waiting to be deleted forever or finally sent.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BouncyBrittonie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BouncyBrittonie/gifts), [LiProuvaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiProuvaire/gifts).



> So I pride myself in being an enabler, but my friends are no better. Earlier this week bouncybrittonie sent me a little plot-bunny related to liprouvaire's [gorgeous edit](http://liprouvaire.tumblr.com/post/139573304661/u-n-s-e-n-t-inspired-by-x-and-x)
> 
> Of course, I had to write it and I like this little verse so much that there will be so far 5 stories written for it, including this one. I only got the first two right now, but I'll probably get the others done sometime this week.
> 
> Also this story is all angst, but the ones that will follow should mend your broken little hearts :) (always angst responsibly that's my motto :P)

It’s been about two months since V-day and the order of the world is still more or less blown to shit, but no one can deny it’s slowly getting better. At the pace of a snail, that’s for sure, but progress is progress and even Merlin thinks that they might see the light at the end of the tunnel for that particular crisis in about a year or two.

Eggsy had never thought he would ever find Merlin (still Merlin, because the man will send anyone who calls him Arthur to the South Pole, no matter how much they need all hands on deck right now) to be more optimistic than himself.

Roxy tells him it’s because Merlin is more used to deal with things going to shit and getting himself out of his funk.

Percival tells him that Merlin only lost his best mate when he lost Harry. He didn’t lose a lover, so of course Eggsy is hit harder by the loss. And when Eggsy had told him that it wasn’t exactly like that with Harry, Percy had only smiled sadly at him and told him it was even worse then. It’s harder to grieve for what should have been than for anything else in the world.

Somehow, that’s more comforting than anything anyone has told him yet and so, whenever Eggsy sees the other Knight palming the little box he always keeps in his pocket, just big enough to hold a ring, he makes sure to get him out and get him as drunk as Percival will let himself become.

Some might say it’s not healthy, but not even Roxy will complain now that her father has stopped trying to blow himself to bits on each of his missions.

It’s been one of these nights and Eggsy has just brought Percival back home. He’s not as drunk as the other man, slightly tipsy yeah, but not enough that he couldn’t defend them if they were attacked or something. Once in the bedroom, Percival falls face first into the bed, not bothering undressing or even removing his shoes.

Eggsy does the latter for him and contemplates for a second wrestling with the other Knight to cover him with the blanket, but it’s positively toasty in the bedroom so he should be fine. Also, the last time he tried that, he ended up as Percival personal teddy bear for the night. It wasn’t that bad, but Eggsy isn’t really that tired yet.

Percy mumbles something in the pillow and it should be worrying that Eggsy has already learned to decipher his drunken muffled words in so little time. For some reason though, it makes him smile. They might not be what people usually pictures friends to be, but that they can understand each other so seamlessly now only proves that friends they indeed are.

That’s why his only answer is a grunt that could only be taken as an affirmation in the loosest sense of the word. He might just be tipsy, but he’s also feeling way too lazy for his usual ‘ _I am not going through half of London to get back to my flat. Of course I am crashing on your sofa._ ’

It’s enough to satisfy Percival however, and soon enough, he can hear the tiny ridiculous noises that is the other man snoring.

He makes his way to the sofa, that old thing that is more comfortable than many beds he’s slept in, and lets himself sink into it.

He’s not tired at all, still riding the happy high that was listening to Percival telling tales of his early shenanigans with James, Harry and Merlin. He has some difficulty imagining it, but Percy did tell him it was a different time. James and Percival were relatively young Knights, Merlin wasn’t yet in charge of so many departments and Harry wasn’t yet playing the political game to become the next Arthur.

In short, they had been like children with access to technology no children should even know exist.

When Eggsy had said how he wished he could have seen that, Percy had gotten that crazy gleam in his eyes before telling him that while time travel hadn’t been invented yet, it would be so very easy to instigate a prank war with Merlin. After all, the handler had never discover how Percival could get into rooms that were supposed to only open to Merlin and it had been far too long since he had used this knowledge.

Some of the pranks Percival proposed are pure genius and he gets out his phone to make a list of them, just to be sure they do not flee their mind during the night.

About an hour later, he’s done with the list, has fucked around with a few apps and for some reason he’s now looking at his contacts for the first time in a long while.

He feels a bit queasy when he realises that the first person on the list hasn’t survived the events of V-Day.

He’s been lucky that his family had been safe by the end of it, as well as his two best mates, but there simply has been too many casualties for anyone not to at least know someone who lost their life.

There’s probably more than one in Eggsy’s phone. He’s got a painful pang in his heart just thinking about it, but he thinks it’s time he finally removes them. You can only go forward, there’s no sense in keeping to the past in this way. If he wants to remember them, he’s got pictures and memories. It’s more than enough.

The first few are easy enough. Sure they were all friends, but no one that had ever been close to him.

The second he thinks that he’ll probably be done before he knows it is the exact same moment he scroll to Harry’s name.

His mood change instantly and he has to bite back a sob, not wanting to disturb Percy’s rest in the other room.

For the longest time he just stares at the name on the screen. To nearly everyone, it would look like any other contact, but anyone who knew Eggsy would have known that this contact must have been pretty special just by the fact that it was listed as simply ‘Harry’. No nickname, no emojis, no fancy characters, just Harry.

On a whim, he goes to their message thread even though he knows they have exchange very few messages.

He’s surprised to see that the message he had never finished composing once Harry had left right after their fight is still there, waiting to be deleted forever or finally sent.

_im sorry i didn’t mean waht i said your not a freak im sorry i’ve let you down you said you wre doing that fro my dad well ive been doing for u its aways been for u_

It’s a jumbled up mess and one might have thought Eggsy drunk when he wrote it, but at the time, with the taste of failure and regret still sharp in his mouth, he had never felt more sober. Not that it did him any good when he had to witness Harry go on a killing frenzy before being killed himself. That memory is now forever burnt in his mind and he can still hear the loud bang at the most peaceful times, a painful reminder of the life that was lost.

And maybe they would never have become more than just friends, maybe their horrible fight would have drove an immovable wedge into their relationship. Maybe Harry wouldn’t have felt as proud of him as Merlin is sure he would. Maybe he wouldn’t have regretted never apologizing before leaving, maybe “sorry” wouldn’t have been the first thing out of his mouth when he came back, unlike what Percival believes.

The more he thinks about it, the more maybes there are, and he knows he should stop. Percy would slap him behind the head if he was currently there, then put on the telly to distract him or something. He would be right too, there is no use lingering on those dark thoughts, not when the only person who could completely make them disappear is no longer alive to do it. He’ll have to learn trusting that Harry’s friends are right, that they knew him best.

It’s easier to do when he’s not looking at the reminder that he never apologized himself, that he abandoned his phone when he remembered that Harry’s feed got transferred directly to his home and that hacking into it would be a better use of his time. Or so he had thought at the time. What wouldn’t he give now to have sent that message instead.

Maybe Harry wouldn’t have the time to read it, but at least Eggsy would have tried.

Looking back, Eggsy cannot help but feel that at the more important turns of his life, he rarely tried as much as he should have. V-Day doesn’t count, since the fate of the world had depended on him. It’s when it comes to his own life, his own existence, that he’s just now starting to sort himself out and a lot of it is thanks to Percy’s silent support.

He should just delete the contact, delete that whole stupid conversation about silly unimportant things he had going with Harry, but instead he finds himself pressing send.

And typing some more words that won’t ever reach Harry.

_i’m so fckn drjnk but i miss ur vpice sp mch_

_u forgot to say goodbey nd it hurts it fckn hurts id ont kno waht to do now its like i lost my whole wrold_

He barely waits for the sound announcing the last message has been sent before he powers down his phone for the night. If he were to keep it open, he knows he couldn’t help but check if the messages have been read even if he knows it just wouldn’t be possible. Every little _ding_ of notification would be another stab into his heart because it wouldn’t be Harry answering.

His happy buzz of earlier is well and truly dead now and he rolls on his front, hiding his head in the cushions, hoping that sleep will come swiftly.


End file.
